


Don't Fear Me (Anymore)

by Nihonkikuasa211



Category: Bleach, Durarara!!
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst and Tragedy, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Child Neglect, Crying, Denial of Feelings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Feels, First Kiss, Fix-It, Heavy Angst, Hurt Orihara Izaya, Love Confessions, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Quincy Lore, Redemption, Seirietei History, Self-Hatred, Thousand Year Blood War Arc, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2020-05-02 00:00:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19187866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nihonkikuasa211/pseuds/Nihonkikuasa211
Summary: Two years after the final battle with Heiwajima Shizuo, Orihara Izaya is found dead in the aftermath of torture during a fall baseball game. Shizuo loses his grip on violence, and pleads to the lone survivor to kill him.She follows his request.Finding themselves in Seireitei following the invasion of someone calling himself God, can Izaya and Shizuo put aside the enmity - or the lack of acknowledging their feelings no longer masked by hate - in order to change the fate of Seirieitei?After all, the most ridiculous statement is to battle an enemy when you know nothing about them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It has almost been three years since the "completion" of the Bleach manga. This is a fix-it. A huge fix-it that may end up being really long because, well, Izaya loves to talk. But this idea came to me as I was reading the LN "A Standing Ovation with Orihara Izaya." I thought of what would have happened if Izaya had been killed, and how Shizuo would have reacted.  
> Then, I thought that those two would cause so much chaos in Soul Society that something would have to change. But what if they managed to change the story to a satisfactory ending?
> 
> I'm honestly very nervous about this. I have never attempted a crossover similar to this before, and I have no idea how my writing skills are since it has been years since I wrote anything related to Bleach, and I haven't written anything that has Izaya or Shizuo.

                                                                        _Prologue_

               

“Tch…” Ashes fell from a cigarette butt pelted onto the ground. If you looked close enough, they almost resembled ashes from a cremation. _Why?_ The man was alone. As always. For the past – gods knew how long it had been – couple of years, the loner had only himself and few reluctant lonely others for company. Why else would they surround themselves with him?

How knew it would turn out that way? Calloused hands raked through bleached blond hair, the smoke he exhaled reaching out into the sky. It trailed into the blue, impossibly blue sky and touched the featherweight clouds.

He could never touch the sky. Now he felt that he didn’t deserve such a dream.

_“Shizu-chan…”_

He heard that voice sometimes. It drove him mad, to the point where he couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t anymore. Instead of grating on his nerves when he had been al – when _it_ had caused him to throw vending machines and street signs, Shizuo found that the voice, that _one_ voice…could calm him when nothing else could.

Shizuo didn’t know what the hell Tom-san had been talking about when Shizuo was hearing voices in his head. It wasn’t his fucking fault that the voice followed him no matter where he went, made sneering comments on the passerby, and called him by that fucking nickname that he had created in high school.

_“I-ZA-YA-KUN…”_

Shizuo could still hear himself snarling the name of his enemy, the syllables of that name making him remember memories that he wanted to forget, including that day that he die –

_FUCK. FUCK. FUCK –!_

Anyway. Tom-san had insisted he take this holiday. Shizuo didn’t know why. It wasn’t as if he was going to get any better. He had told Tom-san that much, but the puppy dog eyes and the pleading was so disgusting that Shizuo didn’t even bother to say anything.

Tom-san said that Shizuo was hearing his voice everywhere and it wasn’t healthy.

Shizuo told him, quite nicely, to shut up.

_“Shizu-chan, have you come to play with me today?”_

The slight tilt of mocking laughter and joy in his voice, the misty red of his eyes…

Tom-san said that it had been two years since ~~Orihara Izaya Flea The FLEA~~

“Kill kill kill kill… _killkillkiill_ …!”

 _it_ had left Ikebukuro and he wasn’t coming back anytime soon.

Why then was the debt collector hearing that voice in his head and having conversations with him? It wasn’t as if Shizuo killed him, right?

_“Shizuo-senpai. That man…was a monster. Not you. Deserved to die. Pain. Needed more pain.”_

Shizuo knew that he had lost it when he had almost used his superhuman strength to punch Vorona. He didn’t even know why he felt the burning, almost murderous need to punch his kohai.

It wasn’t as if he was grieving, right?

Hah, as if! The stupid bastard _flea_ had been nothing but a miserable burn to his side from the moment of his existence! He was the reason why Shizuo lost his bartender job, the reason why everyone feared him, the reason he owed 4 million yen to the Tokyo government….and…and!

Shizuo had been diagnosed with insomnia two months finding himself awake at three in the morning and not able to fall back to sleep.

He didn’t dare tell anyone with a soul about the nightmares.

About the hands around his neck, choking him and telling him to finish it.

_“Do it, monster.”_

Shizuo didn’t understand. Fuck that, he didn’t want to understand. Why was he seeing his hands bathed in red, arms entrenched in gore with red eyes never leaving him…and hearing screams echoing in his mind?

It wasn’t as if Shizuo had ever heard the flea scream before. The flea was always smirking, devilish ideas branding his mind as if the only world he understood, manipulating people as if they were toys and laughing at the aftermath. Shizuo should bet glad that disgusting parasite was dead. He had destroyed more lives than he had helped anyone, no one mourned him, and it was almost as if he had never existed in the first place.

Why wouldn’t his mind just let him die in peace, in place of blood-curling screams belonging to a certain someone echoing in his every waking moment?

Shizuo never told anyone how sometimes the dreams turned into another nightmare, with their lips connecting into a passionate kiss.

 _“So much for the vacation.”_ Shizuo own words echoed – no, burned in his mind.

Inside the room was this guy. More resembling of a monster than him, in Shizuo’s opinion.

He couldn’t truly see the structures of the person’s face. Or of the other _client_ that had evaded taxes in 2006. Shizuo would have gotten beyond pissed if his normal functioning had been in place, but since that day, his normality had gone haywire.

What was he seeing? What was he really seeing? Shizuo felt his heart stop. The sharpness of blood hitting his nostrils didn’t occur to him. His lungs were stiffening, attempting to continue breathing. His brown eyes were wide, shock – no, something…else coursing through his body as he stared at what was presented to him.

“It’s funny. Didn’t that guy say he was afraid of bartender suits?”

The other one grunted, those eyes only on the empty wheelchair.

“I think his last words were…. “’Shizu-chan’” right, Yagiri? Or was it, “‘Don’t hurt them, don’t hurt them?’” I don’t remember. He was babbling so much.”

The large man reacted, a smirk making his bloodied face appear like walking wounds and gore.

“My name’s not Yagiri*.”

“Oi.” Shizuo felt as if he was out of his body. Even his voice didn’t reach his ears. It took every ounce of his willpower to not burst into rage. “Why are you talking about him like he’s dead?”

Twin cruel smiles echoed, making Shizuo want to snap them in half even more.

“He _is_ dead. Don’t you know?” The one mistakenly called Yagiri pulled out his bloodied hand and touched the hand of the figure lying in the wheelchair. “Opps!” The bloodied hand attached to the figure had been hanging awkwardly by the bone and fell with a _splat!_ on the floor.

“Well, it’s not like he’ll need it anymore anyway.”

Shizuo stared at what was supposed to be Orihara Izaya’s body. The body in the wheelchair was lying halfway, blood coating the handles and more sluggishly pelting onto the floor. It was such a sickening sound Shizuo tried to look away when confronted with another horrific sight. Bile rushed to his throat, but Shizuo refused to relinquish his weakness to these sickos. Every fingernail had been ripped off, and some tips of the fingers had also been cut off, where they had collected messily onto the floor.

There were multiple puncture wounds in the legs. One was twisted in a sickening angle, making Shizuo realize that those bastards had broken this person’s legs before killing…him.

How many hours had he suffered? It had been three hours since Shizuo had received an anonymous email regarding a big shot that had evaded taxes in 2006. He had been observing a small festival observing some fake god or another when he had received it.

A lone slash wound from a knife had ended this man’s suffering and life.

Then Shizuo saw his eyes. Those red eyes that had haunted him since…

…Forever.

Those eyes were no longer bright with mirth or mocking laughter and joy. They weren’t devious or devoid of emotion, annoyed or pleased by the teasing he always knew would unravel Shizuo’s self-control.

They no longer held anything anymore.

The two eyes were almost dull rubies, pupils no longer dialed for the light that every human sought to have.

Shizuo screamed. He screamed with no collective thought as if he couldn’t think anymore. He didn’t know why he had that feeling. What did it matter?

* * *

When it was over, Shizuo paid no attention to the bleeding of his wounds. He knew he had been gutted sometime, but that didn’t register in his mind. Despite the screaming in his chest and the gush of blood covering his tattered bartender’s uniform, Shizuo gently picked up Izaya’s body and held him in his arms.

“For so long…I thought you were dead. I thought…I…” Tears poured from his eyes. Shizuo didn’t know if it was from the fact that Izaya was dead, or if the emotions surrounding his supposed death were coming out of him like an avalanche.

Torn sobs exploded from his abused throat. He didn’t know he still had the ability to scream. He was so tired of screaming. For the first time, Shizuo held Izaya’s head in his hands.

“…I’m sorry. I didn’t want this to happen. Any…of this. If you want to know the fucking truth…” Shizuo crushed Izaya in his arms, curling his arms around him. “I wanted you back. I was miserable without you. Huh. So much for hating you.”

“It feels like I can’t breathe, flea. It feels…hurts…so much. I didn’t think pain could hurt this bad.”

Shizuo half-chuckled, blood flowing down his cheek and half-coughing as his crushed ribs bruised his punctured lung.

“I killed those bastards who really killed you though. You thought I couldn’t kill people, huh? Well, look at this gory mess here. All for you.”

Shizuo’s blood-soaked fingers brushed against his former enemy’s face. The warmth had long since faded away. Carefully, he caressed a few raven strands not marred by dried blood.

“Izaya…” More tears fell.

“Izaya…” The tears pelted on the dead raven’s face.

 _“Izaya…”_ A scream of grief echoed in the barren room full of bodies.

 " _IZAYA! IZAYA!!”_

Howls of grief and rage were the only sounds for minutes on end. It was as if the years of denial of feelings were manifested by the grief itself.

“Why are you crying?”

Shizuo blearily looked up to find a high school girl carrying a knife standing in front of him.

There was silence.

The girl had emotionless eyes. As if the life she had was not a life at all, but an act of hell.

Shizuo gritted his teeth. There was only one thing left.

“…Kill me. Please.”

“Why?” The girl tilted her head.

“Why not?!” Shizuo screamed. “I have…! I have…nothing left. Nothing.” Tears full of rage dropped from his red eyes.

“Can’t you –?!” A half gasp-gurgle drew from his mouth.

Shizuo felt his body tilt backward, Izaya still in his arms as he realized the girl had done as he asked.

His existence was extinguished into the darkness.


	2. Reunion Between Old Friends

 

                                                                             _Reunion Between Old Friends_

 

Shizuo didn’t expect to wake up. Hell, he didn’t have any thoughts towards his death at all.

What was the point of dreaming about something that no one living truly understood? It wasn’t as if Shizuo ever thought about the semblance or the ephemerality of death in the first place. He supposed the only time he thought about death itself was due to the influence of the flea.

God, Shizuo had never wanted to kill anyone more in his entire life. His entire demeanor, from his smirk and joyously sing-song voice whenever spoke just made Shizuo want to draw blood and snap the stupid flea!

But…now, well…

Perhaps a part of him thought that he would be in Hell. After all, his hands had been bathed in blood and he remembered with stunning clarity of how he begged the girl to end his life. After all he had done in the destruction of humanity, the destruction of others’ lives and happiness…including becoming a murderer, Shizuo thought it was at least what he deserved.

For taking a life to realize that the dream had turned into an actual living, breathing nightmare and a hell Shizuo could only blankly stare into as the blood dripped onto the floor and as the red eyes would never see again.

…Those bastards. Those _fucking_ bastards!

Shizuo didn’t know how he could think. He was supposed to be dead, metaphorically, speaking six feet under and taking the dirt nap, so how was is it that he could form any coherent thoughts? The rage and violence that had defined him in life and had fucked-up consequences for him and everyone surrounding him was there even though his life had ended moments ago.

“…What the hell is this?”

His growl was deep in his throat, glancing around at this bizarre world around him. For some reason, the wounds and blood were no longer visible, and a long white hakama covered his body. His brown eyes widened in shock as he stared at the buildings’ surroundings. He was supposed to be dead, so why the hell was there this big ass white concrete with Japanese tiles everywhere?!

“How did I even get here?” Shizuo mumbled, looking away from the bizarreness and staring at the bright blue sky. It was as far away as ever, and Shizuo clenched his hands into fists at the memory.

He turned around, hearing the sound of someone attempting to stand.

_Great. Just what I need. A dead guy to beat the shit out of…not like we can die again…right?_

Cursing his confusing thoughts, Shizuo turned to face the lout, but he managed to turn only halfway before a garbled sound stuck in his throat.

“I-I…zaya…”

He had been dead. He had been dead. Dead from the horrific wounds of torture that were still imprinted in Shizuo’s tortured and mangled mind, blood oozing sluggishly from his wounds.

Shizuo had held Izaya’s body in his arms. Shizuo felt so much light-headedness that he was sure he was going to pass out. Why was he here? Why…the wounds were gone, even the hand that had _fallen_ on floor had been reattached somehow! Shizuo stared at his one-time enemy.

Izaya had always been beautiful. It frustrated Shizuo to no end that the most despicable human being on the planet could look so fine and breathe the same air as him. Those high cheekbones and pale skin…coupled with that dark hair and thin face, was enough to create a woman’s orgasm.

Izaya’s eyes had always been an odd color. Shizuo had really paid attention to them before now. They had always been just another feature of the flea that he hated, just another feature that Shizuo was determined to erase with his bare hands.

But now that Shizuo had actually seen those eyes, dead list a bloody mist and hollow, it surprised him of how much he wanted to see those eyes open.

_Why now after all this time? I don’t understand…why I feel this goddamned why and why I snapped…fuck, it doesn’t make any sense…_

An image of Shizuo holding Izaya in his arms as he bled out before pleading for a gift he never thought he would ask.

_I wanted you dead and yet I killed for you._

 “Shizu…chan…?”

Shizuo was still as the former informant woke. His eyes opened, warm with life and dark red as his eyes shakily remained open.

“Why are…you here? I’m supposed to be…” his voice trailed off.

It was then that Shizuo remembered that Izaya had been afraid of death. Why he had bothered to try to kill him and provoke Shizuo to kill him in front of people was beyond the capacity of Shizuo’s brain to think. This realization, that he actually _died_ , must be hell for him.

The thought didn’t bring Shizuo any comfort.

“Yeah.” Shizuo murmured. “We’re dead.”

Izaya stared at the blond for a moment. Then suddenly his expression broke out into a familiar mocking expression.

“Aww. Did Shizu-chan miss me that much?”

 _“Urusai!”_ Shizuo snapped. “It’s not funny!” His heart, of which he never thought would beat again, palpated at the expression Izaya wore in contrast to the empty dead stare. “Don’t joke about that!”

Izaya smiled even more. “I didn’t realize Shizu-chan cared so much. I thought he was just thirsting out for my blood. Did your dog nose find my blood and find what you were looking for?”

Blood boiling, Shizuo gripped Izaya by the open v of his hakama and screamed into his face.

“Don’t you care?! You died, you fucking louse! You died in the most horrific way, torture!!” It escaped Shizuo that sudden terror filled Izaya’s eyes and the grip on his arm was stronger than he had expected. “Or is your ego so inflated by your emotionless freakiness that you don’t even care?!”

A serious expression crossed Izaya’s face then. It was almost somber, and a hint of sadness echoed across his sudden unsmiling face.

“Don’t you think I deserve it, Shizu-chan?” Shizuo stared at the man who was speaking to him in such a clam tone. “After all the harm I caused you, and to my beloved humans…not recognizing your humanity, don’t you say that was the most fitting death for the monster of Ikebukuro?”

“You’re not a monster!” Shizuo instantly claimed, although he had no idea why he felt such revulsion at the self-loathing the flea was excreting. “You weren’t the one who tortured yourself!”

“There are many more ways to torment the human mind than physical pain, Shizu-chan.” A tiny ghost of a smile quickly faded against Izaya’s face. “After all, I got off easy! It was only a couple of hours!”

“You…!” Shizuo didn’t know why he was so angry. Seeing the flea, Izaya smile sadly at him due to his past actions when they were dead, made Shizuo almost as angry as he had been when they were chasing each other in Ikebukuro. “You…!”

He did what his mind told him to do.

He kissed Izaya.

The lips were softer than Shizuo had imagined. He had seen those lips many times, moving with infuriating words and teasing, but he never imagined that his lips would taste so…soft.

His nose brushed against the ex-informant’s, and he found himself pressing his lips further into Izaya’s. They were so soft and tasted good, electricity burning against his lips as he moved to open his mouth wider.

Izaya moved his mouth from his in an almost fear-induced movement. His eyes were impossibly wide, and a faint blush marred his cheeks. A trail of saliva dripped against his mouth.

“Wh-hat are you – ?!”

“Why are your legs limp?” Shizuo asked, deep shock coursing through him as he noted Izaya holding himself up by his upper body. Horror-filled eyes bored into his own, and Shizuo couldn’t tell what emotions were crossing the flea’s face because there were so many.

Fear.

Horror and terror.

And something else that Shizuo couldn’t name right now.

“Let me go, you damn protozoan!” Izaya instantly started to struggle, his eyes afire with fear that Shizuo couldn’t understand. For all his life, Izaya had never been afraid of him. And now he was?

Bullshit.

“I’m not letting you go until you tell me what’s going on!” Shizuo roared.

Suddenly, almost like clockwork, there were explosions around them. Screams filled the air, with… _clangs_?

_What the fuck?_

“Why is there fighting here?!” Shizuo growled, his rage so strong he almost forgot about Izaya for a moment. “Isn’t this supposed to be paradise?”

“Death is never paradise, Shizu-chan.” Izaya smirked. “It is simply another journey.”

“Yeah, yeah. Russo.” The screams and clangs of metal against metal grew louder as the moments passed. Shizuo began to walk forward, pissed off and trying not to kill anyone this time.

Before thee flea could make a smart comeback, Shizuo hauled the shorter man on his shoulders.

“I am not a child, Shizu-chan!” The thumps against his back almost felt like puppies’ paws’. “Let me down, you damn idiot!”

“We’re going to check this out.” Shizuo growled. “If you don’t want to die, hold onto my back, flea!” 

* * *

 

 “…You meant Rousseau, Shizu-chan. You really got good grades in History of the World, didn't you?”

 

“…Shut up before I ki – kiss you!”

There was no comment from the infamous informant.


	3. The Fire

_The Fire_

 

_Shizu-chan died?_

Izaya’s single focus was on that thought. If he still had a living body, Izaya would be horrified with himself. Instead of observing the atmosphere and seeing the various expression on his precious humans’ – or former humans’ – faces, the raven found his vibrant mind solely focused on Heiwajima Shizuo’s demise.

How did he die? As far as Izaya was concerned, the superhuman strength that belonged to the blond made it impossible for him to be defeated. Remembering all of his previous attempts at Shizuo’s life, the red-eyed man concluded early on that the monster was almost impossible to kill. Feeling the beast’s muscles against his slim chest as the other man _carried_ him, Izaya found himself becoming more confused with the sentiment he despised, for his humans already had enough of that disgusting emotion.

 _Shizu-chan…_ Izaya felt his grip on the blond tighten, his heart slowing and his breathing faster at the same time. There was only one possible way to Shizu-chan to die. If physical wounds weren’t enough to kill him, then psychological torture and pain of what it meant to being human would.

The thought turned Izaya’s body cold, as if it had been submerged into the icy depths of the sea in December.

_Why?_

_I don’t understand why you would kill yourself, Shizu-chan._   

Shizu-chan had endured more than a decade of hating himself, party perpetrated by Izaya himself, and the constant rage and violence that defined him. He was so much stronger than Izaya…so different from him.

He and Shizu-chan had hated each other since they had first saw each other in high school so long ago, never even considering liking each other and vowing to kill one another. To Shizu-chan, Izaya was annoying. Perhaps he saw the terrible being Izaya was and was so disgusted by what he truly saw that it would be for the world without Orihara Izaya.

Shizuo had everything that Izaya could never hope to have. Parents who loved him unconditionally despite distancing them from him for their “safety” and a sibling who was loyal. Friends that would do anything for him.

Despite surrounding himself with violence he claimed he hated, and not changing his way of being, Shizuo continued to have human connections.

He had rejected Izaya. Before he even knew who he was, the bleached blond had denied Izaya the chance to approach him.

And what did Izaya do?

Like a child, he had lashed out.

He had never been good with dealing with rejection.

He had love. Love from every strand of being that he touched. And Izaya…could only watch from deep below, always watching but never interacting.

Izaya had never been considered human. Why else would have those eyes?

Because interacting meant dangerous emotions, irrational sentiment that would destroy any self-love a human had left.

Did love even exist in him? How much was Shizuo’s hatred directed at himself?

Not that Izaya had self-love and self-esteem anyway. Yes, he fooled dear Namie and Kida-kun with his ploys, believing him to think of himself as a god and arrogant.

The truth was, Izaya was a doll. A beautiful doll so broken that it would crack if there was even a caress of a touch.

A whisper of a breath could tear the fragile threads away, and shatter the empty container to dust.

An insect…or Shizu-chan’s nickname for him, flea would better suit him. A disgusting organism that feeds off of others that never went away and selfishly pursued their own existence because of fear of death.

Izaya was under no illusion that he was a victim. He could have chosen a different, alternate peaceful path and attempted to be human. But what did he say to Mikado?

Ah, yes.

Yes, it was true.

Orihara Izaya had been jealous of Heiwajima Shizuo.

But why would Shizuo kill himself after his mortal enemy had died? It was supposed to be a relief, the “flea” now gone from Shizu-chan’s precious Ikebukuro and finally living a peaceful life that the blond so desired. _Why were you there, Shizu-chan?_ Izaya continued to think with a small scowl on his face as he faintly heard screams and explosions from this strange new world. There had been so much blood coating his fingers that Izaya hadn’t been certain if he would be able to send the message to the debt collector. He remembered the stickiness of the blood as he pressed send behind his back as the tools were cleaned.

Of course, Izaya had to receive punishment for his transgression. The mind-numbing fire of agony, his cells screaming and aching as his right hand was chopped off was enough for Izaya to almost faint. The infamous information broker, famous for toying with humans and emotions, and never showing his actual thoughts, _begged_ to faint from the pain. The fire wouldn’t go away. The blood wasn’t even the problem. The burning fire, reaching to his toes and wounds tore his mind and body apart. It was only through his experience with pain that he didn’t scream and beg for release. His tortures wouldn’t allow him that pleasure. _Of course,_ they wouldn’t because they had bigger plans for him.

And Shizu-chan had to find him.

Something tore Izaya inside when he thought about the blond meeting his end in that way. Shizu-chan shouldn’t have been there. Izaya should have kept his damn mouth shut and sent the information to someone else. _Anyone_ else. Shizuo wasn’t supposed to die after the human had showed him how wrong he was.

“Idiot,” Izaya whispered. His breath softly brushed against Shizuo’s skin, a swollen lump in his throat as his thoughts continued to revolve around his former enemy.

“What?” Shizuo was speaking to him, but Izaya didn’t reply. Instead, Izaya reveled in the sound of Shizuo’s voice, hearing the sweet baritone that had haunted him for more than two years, the sound stirring _something_ in him. It was as if…the trauma that tore his psyche apart into shattered souls that could never heal, soaked in blood for eternity had never existed. Instead of torment, seizing, and terror, there was…

There was…joy.

Joy that Izaya had never experienced before.

Joy that Izaya didn’t deserve.

Love he always had…released from its cage, the haunting lullaby now fading away as Izaya remembered why he hated Heiwajima Shizuo so much.

And now Izaya had taken away something that could never return…

The sound of another explosion made Izaya come out of his mind. The familiar sound of a body hitting a wall echoed in his ears, and Izaya raised his head from Shizuo’s shoulder to locate where the sound came from.

There was a man around their age lying against a small crater that had been created when he had collapsed inside. He had short brown hair that was somewhat spiky. He was wearing a black yukata that was torn at the shoulders with multiple wounds crisscrossing his body.

The most interesting feature he had was a tattoo with the number 69 lying across his face.

Izaya almost made a smart remark out of habit, but the shout grated his ears as a tall man, an enemy obviously, entered his line of sight.

 _This is an invasion…_ Izaya thought, his eyes narrowing in concentration as the obnoxious voice echoed in his ear drums. _But the reason is unknown._

_Interesting…_

Izaya could feel Shizuo’s rage even as the two figures were unaware of their presence. Izaya attempted to signal to Shizuo that he was in fact holding onto him, but the blond man was too enraged to even notice.

_Ah Shizu-chan, ever so predictable._

An unknown weapon was about to pierce the tattooed man, but before Shizuo could even sprint, there was a sound of an explosion.

Izaya felt his eyebrow twitch. _Fighting here is so loud. It’s almost as if Shizu-chan multiplied, only these...humans appear even more stupid._

Suddenly Izaya couldn’t breathe. His breath was taken from his lungs and pain started to rack through his body. Aching pain entered his legs again, sharp and dull in different places, and Izaya felt his entire body shaking. _Wha…t is this…?_ Sweat grew on his brow, and his mind started to spin.

He felt Shizu-chan begin to shake too. What was going on?

Before blackness fully engulfed him, Izaya first heard the voice belonging to the tattooed man.

It was higher than he expected, shock echoed in that voice.

_“Sou…soutaichou…?”_


	4. New Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shizuo encounters strange people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have multiple excuses for not updating this story, but I decided to start updating again. I'm sorry this chapter is so short. I didn't know exactly how much to put in the chapter, but more should be coming sooner than seven months! Thank you for all who waited!
> 
> I hope to keep my schedule regular despite starting graduate courses online on Saturday!

_A New Soul_

 

Shizuo could barely breathe. His limbs were frozen stiff, and his breathing was rasping gasps.

 _This pressure…_ It was almost as if the floor was swallowing him up; Izaya had already become a burden on his shoulder, fainting from the pressure around them. It was the first time Shizuo had ever gotten as close as he had to the flea; noticing the flea’s stench and his…flea-ness. It was odd. Even in the final fight, they hadn't gotten as close as they were now. Shizuo could feel the shorter man's breath against his neck, the small puffs of air strangely...soothing?

Why was he standing still right now, without the care of what happened to his enemy?

The former Monster of Ikebukuro was for once, unable to fight back.

“Hisagi-fukutaichou.” The voice was ancient. The air itself seemed to decrease with every breath. Shizuo’s hazel eyes couldn’t see beyond the white haori upon the old man’s shoulders, as his eyesight started to dim.

_What the fuck…?_

“Protect the rokungai.”

That was the last word before Shizuo collapsed on the ground.

 

When he awoke, it was to the sound of rain. Shizuo growled in his sleep, his eyes remaining shut even as the whispers continued to grow.

At the sudden audible sob, Shizuo rose up from his supine form and yelled,

“Shut UP!!”

Whatever what was going on here…was really pissing him off. Shizuo hated to be woken up in the morning, especially by annoying noises. A vein in his temple started to twitch as he saw the amount of widened eyes staring at him.

He seemed to be in a hospital room or something similar. There were beds all around him, belonging to figures in weird clothing asleep and heavily bandaged. Shizuo was surprised there were even IV drips attached to them. There was that annoying crying again.

“Stop your reiatsu.”

“Hah?” Shizuo turned so fast that he almost felt dizzy and clutched his head as he stared at the figure frowning in front of him.

This one was weirder than the rest. Shizuo didn’t know why anyone would go bald. Whoever this person was, he was wearing a black kimono and wielding a wooden shinai in his right hand.

“I can feel your reiatsu from here, Rukon.” The tone was almost condescending, the mouth twitching to grim line at Shizuo’s perplexed expression. “You’re making it worse.”

“Who’s making it worse?” Shizuo growled, his tone becoming angrier at each second more he stared at this bald weirdo. “YOU WHO INTERUPPTED MY SLEEP, HAAHH?!?!”

“Shit…he’s not even listening!” The people around Shizuo started to moan and twitch in their sleep. The shinai started to be raised, but then a calm voice intervened.

“Ikkaku-san.” The voice was almost as sweet as honey and the face of that of a beautiful woman. Shizuo stared at her in shock, mindless that his almost-opponent was sending daggers at her through his eyes. “This young soul has not been in Soul Society for long. He probably wasn’t even aware of using his spiritual pressure.”

Two long braids were what Shizuo saw at first. Then he saw the gentle smile, aimed at him as if the room wasn’t surrounded by the wounded and moaning patients in pain.

Her eyes reminded Shizuo of the milk lady. He felt himself flush in embarrassment.

In other words, Heiwajima Shizuo was struck dumb by Unohana Retsu’s beauty.

“Um…”

“You’re safe now,” the strange woman told him. “I know it’s very confusing now, but for now you are safe.”

Shizuo was annoyed by the snickering behind him. He bristled.

“Where am I?” he asked roughly, not bothering to speak formally.

“You are in Soul Society, a place where souls are to go after the mortal life passes.” _She speaks like the flea,_ Shizuo thought in annoyance as he remembered of how the fleabag would never shut up and wouldn’t talk like a normal person. “Basically, that means you are now a soul.”

Shizuo blinked, dumbly realizing that oh yeah, he had forgotten that he was _dead_.

His eyes widened with the memory of the flea’s pained expression, his dark hair longer and his legs…

“Say, have you seen a flea bastard around lately?” The bald one and the two-braided woman looked at him in confusion as Shizuo gritted his teeth out of habit. 

“Smells like shit, talks like shit, black hair, and disgusting red eyes like a fly?”

The woman appeared to not notice Shizuo’s description of the flea and smiled at him as Muda-whatever puffed in his cheeks in order not to burst in laughter.

“Your friend is currently resting in the more secure ward, where Shinigami who have more serious injuries reside. He will be fine.”

Her smile immediately dropped at Shizuo’s snort and subsequent words.

“Don’t worry, I won’t care if he doesn’t wake up.”

“What a hard ass,” the one with the wooden shinai almost grinned. “We need all the manpower we can get, blondie.”

“I hate violence,” Shizuo promptly stated.

Baldie (Shizuo had to come up with a nickname at some point) actually howled despite the seriousness in the room and looked at the taller blond incredulously. He put his face up to Shizuo’s, a wild look in his eyes as he whispered to him.

“You better get used to it. We’re not playing around because Soul Society is at war, Rokun.”

The stress of the day was beginning to wear down on Shizuo. He had no idea what this place was, and why he had woken up to find the flea, of all people, and attached to some kind of system he had no knowledge of.

Which was why, maybe it was absurd to react over such a simple nickname…but it reminded him of a bastard with a sly smirk and red eyes.

_I just have should have just gone to Hell instead. Better than this shit._

_I should have just let him die and fuck off to this bastard who keeps calling me a racoon._


	5. Crying Without Reason

Izaya wasn’t aware of anything when he awoke. All was silent. Then sparingly he began to open his eyes. The walls were bathed in white, and as his red eyes began to clear, Izaya began to see the rows of beds across from him. The new soul understood that he was in some kind of hospital, but what kind of hospital?

Izaya was not horribly injured at all. The brute hadn’t dropped him when he fainted, even though he was not worth it. The wounds from his death still lingered. The agony of having his hand ripped apart, and then chopped off, listening to the blood splatter on the ground…

_Shizu-chan…_

Why did Shizuo die that same day? Shizuo always had the pleasure of making Izaya angry with the ex-bartender’s derailment of his plans through his unpredictability, but this was absurd!

A hot surge of anger surprised Izaya then at the thought of Shizuo dying. He didn’t know why he cared. How many years had Shizu- _chan_ screamed his name in that baritone voice of his, his name on his lips as Izaya laughed inside and they danced their violent game. Neither was supposed to care if either of them died. _Shizu-chan almost killed me, so why even care about my lack of existence?_

The lack of the calm heart inside of him when Izaya saw the familiar – achingly-familiar ~~beloved too far away~~ , _disgusting_ face – enraged expression across the brute’s golden eyes.

And the kiss…scared Izaya. The raven-haired man touched his lips, only a whisper of touch across his lips as his mind, despite the terror shaking through his body, pondered on the abrupt kiss Shizu- _chan_ had given him. Why had Shizu- _chan…_? There was no thinking with him. He couldn’t possibly understand Izaya.

Of feelings that Izaya understood himself but never told anyone. Shinra, his only best friend, knew without even talking to Izaya of what his true self was.

He wondered briefly how much time had passed in the living world. His heart closed before more fragile feelings could enter his heart.

Being alone protected him. Protected him from the fragility of emotion. But it damaged him. Izaya knew that he had no one to blame but himself from the reason why his only friend was the quaky underground doctor who cared nothing for humans and only desired Celty, the Dullahan fairy who lived in Ikebukuro.

There was nothing in him that was good. He poisoned everything he touched. No wonder his sisters turned out the way they did.

And that…

A groan interrupted Izaya before the perilous thought could finish. His head turned to find one of the patients regaining consciousness. There wasn’t too much Izaya could see because the man’s – or soul’s? – head and body was heavily bandaged. A faint line of black tattoos covered his forehead, and a shock of dark red hair, almost the color of his own eyes, was stark against the white of the blankets.

“Oh.” A self-mocking grin materialized against Izaya’s face before he could control it. “I can still move and bend my legs.” Izaya carefully positioned himself into an upright position, white agony tearing through his arms as he pulled his body upward. _I deserve this pain. I deserve everything._

Perhaps Shizu- _chan_ had once felt like this. It wasn’t as Izaya was given – no, that wasn’t correct, either – hadn’t given himself a chance to know the fifteen-year old boy he had met more than a decade ago.

“Are you sure he’s human?”

Izaya almost blinked. The soul in front of him had barely introduced himself, but instead of abject horror and fear, the soul’s tattooed face was shocked in an amused flabbergasted look.

The dark-haired soul winced as a sharp pain drew into his thigh, measuring his breaths carefully to mask the pain. He could almost imagine Shizuo’s expression of rage, his golden eyes transforming into brown, and a traffic sign trembling in his large hands from the amount of his rage. Izaya too could still recall with perfect clarity of how Shizuo had appeared so calm during the final fight – as if the burning rage had been extinguished, and the shell of the man Izaya had hated for so long it was as easy as breathing, had been reduced to a calm murderous calm.

_“Do it, monster.”_

To many who had known his story of how he came to live in the Kansai region, the dark haired man assumed many thought Izaya had been beyond desperate and suicidal to fight Heiwajima Shizuo. Izaya half-wondered how Kine, how even his former pawns would react if they knew Izaya decided to either kill Shizuo or to die in the attempt to prove that he was human and Shizuo was a monster.

_To determine one’s very existence…in such a deranged, twisted way that only I can come up with…how very human of me._

Izaya had told Namie that he was human, but he truly wasn’t. Despite the prestigious awards and the glowing remarks by his teachers in primary school, being quiet and studious, suffering alone as he saw parents come in with their laughing and smiling children, Izaya was still considered to be a loner by his last year in elementary school. No matter how hard he wanted to attract people to him, perhaps of how twisted his love and lack of self-love and self-loathing loneliness, Izaya remained a witness to his years in elementary school, but no one had ever approached him once.

_Heh…and yet I spent the rest of my high school career and more making a man who was truly human chasing me…who…who approached me._

_Even if he hated me, shouted that I “pissed him off,” and refused to acknowledge any sort of positive emotion towards me…I wanted to be chasing him forever._

“Yes,” Izaya said at last. “I am certain that he is human.”

The unnamed red head didn’t say a word for a moment. Then his eyes wandered to his own bandaged body.

“He sounds like Zakari-taichou,” the soul whispered. It was odd to see such a forlorn expression on that face. Izaya had gathered that an invasion of an enemy had attacked this…afterlife of some sort but had yet to gather any concrete information. “He’s the taichou of the Eleventh Division, and well, he’s crazy. Always looking for a fight and to battle.” A burst of anger framed the soul’s face then, making the tense body wired. “He was badly injured too…like Taichou.”

“Kuchiki-taichou…”

 _Even if he is a soul, human emotions are still noticeable._ The grief and pain on the Shinigami’s face as he said that last name reminded Izaya of the other humans who were still living. _Guilt, grief, and sorrow still exist here._ Izaya didn’t know how it was possible that a soul could die if they had died previously, but he pushed that thought aside as he took in the anger and frustration across the Shinigami’s face.

The face of such self-loathing and despair half-reminded Izaya of Shizu- _chan_ in the part of the rage. Still, Izaya had never seen Shizuo look sad. The only expression other than calm on the other’s face had been a long ago memory, in high school on the rooftop.

“Goddam it!” The Shinigami suddenly pounded the blankets despite his bandaged hand. “Goddamn it! What good am I as a fukutaichou if I can’t protect…anyone! Especially my taichou! Instead…” Grief and rage molded into an expression of mourning so deep Izaya was fascinated. “Instead that creepy fucker just attacked and attacked Kuchiki-taichou and I couldn’t do _anything!_ I couldn’t do ANYTHING, and now Kuchiki-taichou…”

Izaya remembered of how Masaomi had fled from the Blue Squares because he was afriad. Much to the middle schooler’s belief, Izaya didn’t blame Masaomi for fleeing and leaving Saki, his lover, at the hands of the Blue Squares. It was human nature to fight against the flight or fight instinct, and when the body perceives itself in danger, it makes decisions that some percent of humans have control over.

It was human nature to blame oneself for negative outcomes, for guilt to eradicate any common sense and Izaya was looking at the incarnation of self-loathing and guilt in form of this raging Shinigami.

“Kuchiki-taichou protected _me_! I couldn’t protect any of our squad, or him from them! And yet…”

Could Izaya say anything to this soul who had enough guilt and self-loathing inside of him to fill his own heart?

“If your taichou chose to protect you, then it was his choice.”

Izaya was prepared for the anger. He was prepared for the violence and scorn, the hate brimming underneath the surface.

But the Shinigami did none of those things.

Gritting his teeth, looking so much like Shizu-chan that it hurt to look at, the red-haired soul began to cry. He looked even angry crying, as if the saltiness was manifested by the overwhelming frustration by his weakness.

_He has no reason to cry. His team is safe…whole, and alive._

But then why did Izaya feel anything?

It was human nature to cry when there was no reason to.


	6. Information is Power

Izaya was bored. Very bored. He had enough of lying in bed and watching souls writhe in pain. He had gathered enough information during the week he was immobilized in bed. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried moving, but the odd soul wearing a white haori with the kanji for four on her back, warned him not to strain himself.

It was a quiet day. Izaya had waited until late morning when the female captain had gone to an important meeting to try to stand. There was no one else in the room. The red-eyed young man had been fascinated by how the Shinigami had been able to heal, far faster than in normal human standards. The Shinigami named Renji had been mostly silent during his three day stay in the Fourth Ward, but Izaya had been just as quiet.

Information took time to process after all. He knew that his enemies and fellow adored humans believed that Izaya took his job in a carefree manner with easy schedules and long days of freedom. In reality, there were days that Izaya did nothing but wait. He observed.

Although Shizu-chan loved to call him “flea” and “louse,” Izaya preferred to compare himself to a cat. Cats were patient and able to wait for hours before stalking their prey. The prey in this instance was information on the attack this world had experienced.

Izaya had almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Most of the Shinigami knew why the Quincy attacked, but had yet determined a “counter-attack.” _Revenge is such a vicious motivator. Why attack an enemy with almost no data expect information that is more than 1,000 years old?_

_Shinigami…even though they seem to live for long, have the same attributes of humans that I –_

Izaya stopped himself. He reminded himself of the truth that he realized. He had never loved humans. He hadn’t even loved himself. His love was a selfish, shallow love that wasn’t even real. Perhaps…Izaya didn’t even love humanity, but craved to be a part of their lives that he confused admiration ~~jealousy longing WANT WANT~~ for the humans he simply observed.

The former human had no idea where he was going. Izaya almost passed out from the agony of the lightning pain in his legs. Sweat immediately started to pour on his forehead, and a faint hiss escaped from him as his legs shakily continued to move forward.

It took less than a moment for his body to collapse and crumple. A hoarse gasp as white-hot pain tore through his abdomen and insides almost made him whimper. Fiction had always made the recently deceased soul’s body parts appear healed in the afterlife.

If this is what counted as the afterlife.

It didn’t take Izaya long to understand that the inequities of the living world had extended to this place as well. The surprise on the red-haired Shinigami’s face as Izaya had told him, in their sparingly conversation, that he had found himself outside of spoke volumes of how this society was divided.

Izaya almost bumped into a familiar shape. His heart seized as he caught sight of Shizu-chan frowning at the panting soul as he was previously advancing forward.

“Shizu-chan!” Izaya masked his fear with fake mocking joy. “What are doing stumbling around this beautiful place?”

His sarcasm wasn’t noticed by the dumb brute.

“Why are you here, you shitty flea?”

The insincere smirk instantly broke across his face before Izaya even thought.

The smaller soul almost gasped as Shizuo grabbed his shoulder, sending sparks of agony and fear even though there was no injury.

“I’m pissed off. The stupid _staff_ won’t allow me to go inside and find out what the fuck is going on! And now I’m going to beat up the bastards that made up that rule in the first place.” His golden eyes only briefly met Izaya’s. “You’ll serve as a shield in case they throw something.”

“My, my, Shizu-chan. You certainly grown leaps in the neuron department since we last met. Has death truly been so kind?”

Shizuo only grunted. He seemed intent on reaching the destination.

“What was that? I can’t understand your protozoan growls, Shizu- _chan_.”

“Flea…” The grip on his shoulder tightened to a spark of agony, but Izaya made sure that Shizuo didn’t see pain filtering across his face.

The two former enemies were only aware of each other’s presence as Shizuo’s steps echoed in the imposing hallway. There were no paintings or anything that made the place feel as if it was lived in. It was a blank space as if it was made not for souls or living beings, but a prison.

 _Kikujou…_ Izaya thought. Who knew that he would be in this situation, with his mortal enemy, both of them dead and presumably another invasion by an unknown enemy? Izaya wanted to smirk at the thought of the Quincy and Shinigami. Apparently, those two…”races” were enemies, but why? It was irrational hatred, wasn’t it? The feelings that tied them together, despite the fatal result for both…presuming Shinigami and souls could die, of course.

 _Ahh…_ Izaya realized with a faint pang. Slowly so Shizuo didn’t notice, Izaya found himself looking at his former enemy’s face. The blond hair was almost blocking his facial expression, and Izaya felt himself swallow his heart at the thought of Shizuo’s face. His handsome face was much more attractive than Kasuka’s. Izaya always fought against a shudder whenever Shizuo would yell or even speak to him in voice embedded by hatred. The chases they had from high school until their deaths felt to Izaya as a prelude to sex. Not that he had experience despite the rumor of his harem in high school and of his profession. Izaya had felt insulted when many perceived his “fan club” as unpaid bed companions. For one, he knew he was gay since he was thirteen. For another, since the age of fifteen, Izaya had been helplessly and violently in love with Heiwajima Shizuo.

Against the poisonous wishes of his heart, how many times Izaya wished that he could be the focus of Shizuo’s smile instead of unadulterated hatred? He knew that the people of Ikebukuro – Celty, Akane-chan, even Vorona – would be able to see Shizuo’s smile. Was his death making him sentimental? Normally he would run far away from his feelings. Simon always said that he was a low-life and a coward, incapable of dirtying his hands.

Would Izaya truly be able to kill Shizuo?

No. He instantly knew the answer without even thinking about it. But why…? It was so simple it was pathetic to all human emotions.

There had been too many times that Izaya had seethed from the fact that Shizuo hadn’t given him a chance. That day, in April eight years ago after beating up a bunch of thugs with a football goal and hearing only blood in his ears, Izaya had been rejected.

That day of promising spring promised nothing but heartache…again.

The only words that Shizu- _chan_ ever told him on the first day they met him was _“You piss me off.”_

Izaya embraced all emotions from his humans equally. He had been cursed, scorned, and plenty of people were not Shizu-chan swore that he would kill him. But yet why did Shizu-chan’s words from almost a decade ago bother him?

The informant had been gleeful when a vengeful Manami had almost killed him after being stabbed. It was to greats joy, to his deep interest in the human psyche that the woman who had wanted to kill herself now hated him enough to create a goal to live. He told herself it was perfectly fine to hate him.

Izaya had been happy observing his humans, content with his parents only coming back to a house they owned once a year, leaving him to take care of his sisters since the age of ten. Mairu and Kururi hated him anyway. Izaya had been bored with Mairu’s attempts at injuring him and telling Shizuo they would be happy that he would die so they could see Kasuka, their beloved idol and Shizuo’s brother.

So why was he like this? Why did he make Shizu-chan chase after him, and make him scream that he would kill him?

Because hatred is better than indifference. As long as Shizu-chan thought of him, even if it was hatred and an intent to irrationally kill, Izaya would exist somehow.

The child inside him was happy that he was acknowledged, even if, no – because it was through a method of violence.

But the war between the Shinigami and Quincy was truly a beastly display. Did the Shinigami truly think that the Quincy wouldn’t exact their revenge for slaughtering almost all the supernatural humans?

“Ne, Shizu-chan…” Izaya muttered. The raven knew that the older soul would be looking at him with hatred and killing intent. Death didn’t change that, despite the strange reactions they had recently.

Shizu-chan was very unpredictable. He always seemed to be doing things that went against Izaya’s plans.

Izaya swallowed a squeak inside him as Shizu-chan suddenly broke into the wall that had been their scenery for quite some time now.

“Oi!” Izaya almost giggled. No doubt Shizuo had dragged him here as an afterthought as he barged through an important-looking gathering. There were more than two dozen Shinigami, one with haoris and one group with only black robes standing in the tatami matted room. In the center, an old man with long white hair with a long staff and a heavily-lined face was staring at the two males in dangerous silence.

“Are you GOING TO LET US OUT?! HAHH?!” Izaya winced from the intensity of Shizu- _chan_ ’s yells. Really, they were dangerous for hearing. _Does the brute truly think we can go inside of this area as we please?_ Izaya smirked.

“SILENCE!” The old soul roared, banging his staff. The Shinigami were staring at the two incredulously and with sweat dropping from their foreheads. “YOU ARE INTERRUPTING A HIGLY SIGNIFICANT –

“This meeting,” Izaya inferred as his mind began to fade from the sheer amount of spiritual pressure, causing gasps to erupt as he interrupted the old soul, “is about the Quincy, right?”

Izaya suddenly grinned. All the memories of the past week past by him, from the time the red-haired Shinigami named Renji and hearing hushed whispers, information, information, so much information –

“It is simple for what you should do.”

A long ago memory reappeared in his mind. An image of a young girl bowing down to him, her bangs framing her face as tears leaked from her eyes. He hadn’t been much older than her, but he didn’t know why the young girl was crying and then started touching him, embracing him. Perhaps she shed tears that he couldn’t shed even at the age of four. His confused emotions remained in his mind, and to himself years later, he always remembered how the girl’s gentle hands felt as they caressed his hair.

_“I’m sorry, Iza-chan. Your parents won’t be coming home today.”_

“You should talk to the Quincy. Or better yet…apologize.”

“WHAT?!?” The old man roared. The Shinigami in attendance winced but Izaya didn’t bat an eye. “You, a mere human with the scent of the living world still with you, have the audacity to – ”

“Call it what you will,” Izaya muttered easily, “but what you are is an organization of violence. No matter what beautiful or honorable words you attach to it, swords…weapons are used to harm one another.”

“Your past is your god. Thus, when you say that you intend to attack whom you call the Quincy back, your past is controlling you. With every thought and movement, vengeance curbs. Isn’t it fascinating? Humans have been bound by emotions. Intelligence gathering…information, information, is paled against such violent love at what is in the heart.

“The Shinigami attack the Quincy because of they were attacked not too long ago. But why are souls attached to a man who is more of a myth and calls himself God? That is because he is one. Because the emotions attached to the past are what was given to them by him through the promise of vengeance, he is a god.

“However, dialogue can have many attributes. It could be a precursor to the inevitable you seek, or there could be a chance of peace. I understand why people decide to have peaceful lives…but I had decided that peace did not conform to who I was.

Your group involved itself in genocide. It is considered a crime against humanity and international law…but none of you know of this, do you? Or do you simply not have interest? Why else would the man calling himself God have so much power, promising the same agony and hell to you as what was brought to them, merely 200 years ago, who were living beings and inferior to Shinigami?

“Or so you say,” Izaya said in mock horror.

It is pointless to separate people into good and bad. Depending of who you are, a person can be good or bad. People, souls, monsters…each can be seen as good or bad depending on your experience. Why do Hollows exist anyway? And why is there a distinction between souls anyway? You do the same job!

“Information is power. And being able to relying information through words or other means in the most powerful tool of all.”

Izaya was used to have an audience. But he wasn’t used to having such silence.

“So then, if we do this…Ryokungai-san, stated a soul with white long hair. His skin was somewhat pale, and even with the small amount of words he spoke were interrupted by coughs. The white haori designated him as a captain. “We will be able to stop the war before it starts?”

“I don’t give a shit what you said,” growled a Shinigami with a glaring bald head. “How would it even work?! The Quincy, they weren’t able to understand the balance between souls!! How - ?”

“That is why,” Izaya said easily, his eyes appearing dark red and contemplative, “this system of yours is foolish.”

“FOOLISH??!!?” Roared the old man. “HOW –”

“Oh my,” the slight young soul said to the fuming ancient commander. “Are you that mad and _childish_ that I said the truth?” A wide smile framed his face as he tutted the General-Commander Yamamoto Genryuusei. “You remind me a lot of Shizu- _chan_!” He beamed.

“No matter what kind of god you are, “good,” or “bad,” or “evil,” worshipers can still cease to exist.”

 

Clapping was heard among the still silence. Izaya’s blood-red eyes narrowed into slits. It was almost as if he was looking at his past self, hearing that mocking clap. He could almost feel Shizu-chan’s blood pressure rise.

The man was wearing a bowl-cap hat with green and yellow stripes. He looked as if he came from the 1950s instead of the 2010s. But what Izaya noticed right away was the aura around him that identified him as another soul.

_Who is this?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. I have no idea how to go forward with this story. Do you have suggestions or plot points in mind? I hate writer's block, but it is happening right now! Please, please review. I also apologize if this chapter seems jumbled. I will make it better.


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